40: A Secret Revealed

Valandur was not due to teach Indil again until Aldúya, so he spent Eärenya at the Academy either teaching or working on organizing his notes for the upcoming convocation. He also mulled over the problem of the minstrels and wondered what Ingwë’s response to Lirilissë had been. He was tempted to go to the palace and seek an audience with the High King but in the end did not. At the moment, his movements roused no suspicions on the part of his fellow loremasters. They all knew that he had been asked to tutor the princess and he would have no other reason to go to the palace on a day when his presence was not required. For now, it was better that he maintained the role of tutor. If Ingwë needed to speak with him, he would send a message.

However, when he arrived at the palace he was met by Artelemnar who informed him that his tutoring session with Indil had been canceled. Instead, the young page led him through the palace, taking a rather circuitous route until Valandur was thoroughly lost, but then they reached a short corridor that turned out to be a covered walk which opened up on one side into a small grassy courtyard.

Artelemnar stopped and gestured for Valandur to enter the courtyard. “His Majesty will be here shortly,” he said and, giving the loremaster a bow, headed away.

Valandur simply stood there, gazing into the courtyard but not entering it. He remembered a certain enclosed garden in Tirion and did not desire to be trapped in another such. While he stood there waiting for Ingwë’s arrival, he examined the courtyard.

It was barely twenty paces across on all sides. There was only the one entrance to it and from his position he could not see any windows looking down upon it. Like the Garden of the Lost in Tirion, this place was completely secluded. A single bench was built along the wall opposite the colonnade. Above it, at what would be eye level to the average Elf, he could see a stone-carved diamond-shaped shield with the royal device on it. The center of the courtyard was taken up by a tower of what appeared to be woven vines rising out of his line of sight. He had no idea what purpose the tower served and wasn’t about to go near it to find out.

Hearing footsteps, he turned to see Ingwë approaching with a couple of his guards. “Ah, there you are, Loremaster,” the High King said with a bright smile. “But why are you standing out here in the corridor?”

Valandur gave Ingwë a bow. “I decided to wait for His Majesty,” he replied, keeping his expression neutral and his voice bland.

Ingwë gave him a searching look and held his gaze for an interminable moment. Valandur found he could not look away even if he wanted to. Before it became too uncomfortable, Ingwë broke eye contact, speaking to the guards. “Leave us. See that we are not disturbed.”

The guards saluted and went back down the hall, stationing themselves at the juncture. Ingwë, meanwhile, took Valandur by the elbow and steered him into the courtyard. “There is nothing to fear here,” he assured him. “This is not a trap, simply a place of meditation. I call it the cloister because of its seclusion.”

Valandur looked up at the tower of vines. It rose almost twelve feet. “What is it for?” he asked in wonder.

“I will show you,” Ingwë said and he slipped between the vines and Valandur followed him. Inside, he found himself surrounded by a dim green light. There was a rope hanging down and looking up he could see a bell.

“What is this for?” he asked again. “I do not think anyone would hear the bell being rung from here.”

“You would be surprised,” Ingwë said. “I was assured that if this bell were rung, it would be heard throughout the city. As for its purpose, I am afraid I cannot say. This is something about which only I know, I and fourteen other people whose names I will not utter here.”

Valandur felt a frisson of something close to fear or perhaps awe at the implication of Ingwë’s words.

“But come, I brought you here for another purpose,” Ingwë said brightly. “Let us take our ease.” And he slipped back out of the tower and sat on the bench with Valandur following. “The beauty of this courtyard is that it is impossible for us to be overheard,” Ingwë continued. “Also, everyone knows that no one is allowed here without my permission.”

“Yet there is no indication that this place is indeed off-limits to all,” Valandur pointed out. “If I had accidently wandered through the corridors to this place I would never know.”

“Perhaps, but you see, anyone who seeks employment in the palace is brought here and explicitly told that they cannot enter it.”

“Well that’s certainly setting up an irresistible temptation,” Valandur retorted with a quirk of a smile. “It’s like telling an elfling not to do something. They cannot help but to do what you have forbidden. It is like an itch that cannot be scratched.”

Ingwë grinned. “It is also a test of trust. Those who find the temptation too great are dismissed from service. Oh, they are not punished otherwise. If they have done their jobs well, they are given sterling references, but everyone knows that their curiosity got the better of them and their employment opportunities may be limited to positions where curiosity is not a problem. I cannot afford curiosity here. The people who serve me need to be uncurious about a great many things that may occur or be said within these walls.”

“And is that why I am here, to test me?”

“In part,” Ingwë averred, “but the greater part is as I said: we cannot be overheard. There is a property of this cloister that prevents sound from travelling. Even if someone were standing at the entrance of the colonnade and could see us speaking, they would hear no word. All sound travels up.” He pointed and Valandur’s gaze automatically followed so he could see the sky above.

He lowered his gaze, giving Ingwë a considering look. “That sounds as if the Valar had a hand in the construction of this place.”

“A very astute observation, but much of the power here actually came from the masons who built it to my specifications. Lord Aulë and his Maiar just gave them a little help. Now, let us speak to the purpose for which I brought you. Actually, there are two purposes, but we’ll get to that later. First off, I have asked Lirilissë to attend me this day. I wish for you to be present.”

“You waited two days to respond to her reply to my request. Was that wise?”

“Wiser than you know, hinya,” Ingwë retorted with a feral grin. “This is not the first battle of wills between me and the guildmaster. Lirilissë was rather reluctant to loan me any of her minstrels when I first conceived the idea of using them to gather information for me.”

“Was there a particular reason why she was so reluctant, other than feeling a moral repugnance for what you would ask of the minstrels?”

“I suspected that she had some proprietary feeling toward them, but I was never entirely sure and I do not know why she would, considering how the minstrels are looked upon as failures by the bards.”

“Atar said that Lirilissë created the rank of Minstrel on her own, as an executive decision, and set the parameters of how they would be treated within the guild. None of the other masters were given an opportunity to discuss the matter or offer any modifications to those parameters.”

“Hmm… well, that’s all very interesting and I will keep that in mind when dealing with the guildmaster, but to answer your original question: Lirilissë and I have had many differences in opinion over the years. I do not care for the way she runs the guild, but that is an internal matter and I will not intervene unless it proves necessary. The masters and journeymen who elected her to the post are free to choose another if they so desire. At the moment, they seem content to let Lirilissë rule the roost, but her being guildmaster is one reason why I have not allowed either of my sons to enter the guild, though both are certainly qualified. Indeed, they could well be masters in their own right. Lirilissë has petitioned me several times to allow my sons to enter the guild. I suspect she feels that having two princes as members of the guild would enhance her own standing among the Council of Guilds, and I will not use my children in that manner.”

“I see,” Valandur said after a moment in which he contemplated Ingwë’s words.

“Probably not as clearly as you may think, though,” Ingwë said, giving him a sympathetic smile. “Politics is an intricate dance of wills and wit and I have, of necessity, become a Master of the Dance, you might say. Now, Lirilissë is due soon but before we meet with her, there is one thing I wish to show you.”

He stood and Valandur rose as well, expecting Ingwë to leave the cloister, but he did not. Instead, he turned to face the wall. The High King gave Valandur a piercing look. “I show you this because I believe you need to see it.” He reached up to the carving and pressed upon the star in the center, pushing it in. A few seconds later there was a grinding noise of stone upon stone and to Valandur’s complete amazement the wall along the right side of the bench swung open, revealing a tunnel. Ingwë grinned.

“This leads to an alley that actually separates the palace grounds from Lord Lassezel’s townhouse. I thought you would appreciate the irony of that. Anyway, do you see that lantern hanging just inside? It will light your way. At the other end is a hook for the lantern, it is so designed that when the lantern is hung it actually opens the latch to the outside. You will only have a short amount of time to exit after you remove the lantern from the hook.”

“But if I were to bring a second lantern—”

“No. The outer door must not be left opened. Do you understand, hinya?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Good. Keep this knowledge to yourself. I pray that you will never need to use it but one never knows what the future holds for any of us.” He started away.

“Should you not close the door, Sire?” Valandur asked.

“From inside the tunnel you can simply push it closed, but from this side, you cannot. However, the star will return to its original position shortly, causing the door to shut automatically.”

“Would not a spell of opening and closing have worked better?” Valandur suggested as he caught up with Ingwë.

The High King flashed him an amused look. “And be more elegant as well. The problem with such spells is that if the spell is not passed on or if those who know the spell are incapacitated in some manner, then the knowledge of the spell is lost. This way, all that is necessary is to show someone how to open and close the door.”

“Who else knows about it, if I may ask?”

“You may, but that is my secret for now.”

“As you wish, Sire,” Valandur said. “I am honored that you have trusted me with the secret and I promise not to abuse that trust.” He gave the king a knowing grin. “And I promise not to enter the cloister without your permission.”

“There is only one reason why you would ever have to, Loremaster,” Ingwë said gravely as he passed the two guards who silently joined them. “And that is because either I have ordered you to or because I am not there to order you to and the situation is dire.”

Valandur stopped in shock. “But how could such a situation arise here in Vanyamar within sight of the mansions of the Elder King?”

“How indeed?” retorted Ingwë with a raised eyebrow and they continued on their way in silence with Valandur mulling over the king’s words.

****

Valandur had assumed that Ingwë would hold his audience with Guildmaster Lirilissë in his study, remembering his own interviews with the High King, so he was surprised when Ingwë ushered him into a small audience chamber that was perhaps only twice as large as his study. There were already a couple of people in the room besides the guards stationed at the door. Valandur recognized Ingwë’s chamberlain and there was a young page, younger than Artelemnar, holding a pillow on which was a coronet of red gold studded with emeralds. The chamber itself was empty of furniture save for a richly carved chair under a blue silk canopy that sat on a single-step dais before a wall that was essentially a stained-glass window depicting Lady Varda creating the stars.

Ingwë ignored Valandur as he spoke quietly with his chamberlain, removing the simple gold fillet that graced his head and replacing it with the coronet which the page brought to him. The chamberlain nodded to whatever Ingwë said to him and strode to the door while the page retired to a corner. Ingwë settled himself on the chair, gesturing to Valandur.

“Come stand on my right, Loremaster.”

Valandur obeyed, feeling a bit out of his depth. Ingwë’s expression was sympathetic. “Remain silent and listen to what is being said and not said between me and Lirilissë.”

Valandur simply nodded. Ingwë straightened and his entire mien changed dramatically. Valandur had never questioned the fact that Ingwë was High King of Eldamar. Even wearing an old hunting tunic with no trappings of royalty about him, Ingwë had exuded power and kingship. But on one level, that power had been veiled so as not to overwhelm and Valandur, for one, was grateful. Now, however, that power, that sense of majesty that Valandur often associated with the Valar, and to a lesser extent the Maiar, was evident in Ingwë. There was no doubt that here was the High King and yet on some inchoate level, Valandur sensed that even now Ingwë was revealing only a fraction of his majesty, and that thought nearly overwhelmed him.

“Guildmaster Lirilissë of the Bards’ Guild,” the chamberlain announced and Valandur forced himself to concentrate on the approaching figure. Lirilissë was surprisingly short, shorter than Valandur was expecting. She probably did not even come to his shoulders and he was not considered exceptionally tall for an ellon. Her hair was a shade that was nearly white and intricately braided with blue ribbons, while her eyes were a startling green. She wore a simple gown of rain-washed blue under her guild tabard, which, along with the guild badge, sported three stars and a flute embroidered underneath.

What struck Valandur the most, though, was her air of superiority. Her curtsey to Ingwë was just shy of being rude. Valandur stole a glance at the High King, but Ingwë’s expression could have been carved in stone and if he felt any insult, he gave no indication.

“Guildmaster Lirilissë, We appreciate your promptness in coming,” Ingwë said with a gracious nod of his head.

“Your Majesty,” Lirillissë said, returning the nod with one of her own. Her voice was high and sweet, but Valandur thought that this was one whose voice would turn shrill in anger or frustration.

Ingwë gestured negligently in Valandur’s direction. “This is Loremaster Valandur Voronwion. We understand that his atar is a member of your guild.”

Lirilissë gave Valandur a searching look, taking in his loremaster’s robe. She returned her gaze upon Ingwë, effectively dismissing Valandur from her thoughts. He was of no account to her, he knew. He thought he should feel insulted, but instead amusement bubbled up from somewhere and he was hard-pressed to contain it and not laugh out loud at her attempts to put him in his place. Two could play this game, or even three.

“Bard Voronwë is known to me,” Lirilissë said stiffly.

Ingwë smiled and Valandur saw it was not a pleasant one and suppressed a shiver. “Yes, well, Loremaster Valandur is organizing Our minstrels for Us and…”

“Your minstrels, Majesty?” Lirilissë dared to interrupt, giving them a huff of disbelief. “Odd. I always thought they were mine and I was just loaning them to you.” Her smile was nearly as unpleasant as Ingwë’s and there was a slyness to her manner that Ingwë did not have.

“Actually, it’s the other way around, my dear Lirilissë,” Ingwë retorted mildly, settling back into the chair in a negligent manner, as if he were finding the audience a bit tedious. Valandur nearly goggled and he could almost feel the tug-of-war of wills between the two. “Do not forget, your guild, indeed every guild within Vanyamar, exists solely by Our pleasure. Under the royal charter We have the power to disband any guild if We deem it necessary. So you see, effectively, all guild members belong to me… even you, Lirilissë.”

The silence that ensued could have been cut with a knife and Valandur dared not even blink, fearing to break the spell which Ingwë was weaving. Lirilissë stood as still as a statue, her expression set. Only her eyes, full of green fire, gave any hint of the emotions she was feeling just then. Valandur stole a sideways glance at Ingwë, who still lounged in the chair, waiting for the elleth’s response.

“Yet the charter also says that you have no power to interfere in the internal matters of the guilds,” Lirilissë finally said, and Valandur heard the doubt in her voice.

“No, that is true,” Ingwë averred and then his entire posture stiffened and his expression hardened. “But nowhere in the charter does it say that We cannot use the guilds as We see fit. Your guild exists on sufferance alone, Lirilissë, and you had best remember that when dealing with Us. We asked Loremaster Valandur to organize the minstrels more effectively and to recruit others if he deemed it necessary. You have his letter of introduction which We authorized and you sent Us one minstrel, just one.”

Lirilissë gave them an imperious look. “One is all I will spare, Sire. The minstrels are not yours to… to play with.”

“You dare!” Ingwë nearly shouted, standing up abruptly to face Lirilissë. Almost at once the guards at the door started moving but Ingwë waved them back, never taking his eyes off the guildmaster who stood as erect as he. Neither was going to give an inch, Valandur knew, and he suspected that Ingwë was fast becoming angry and Lirilissë would use that anger against him.

“Whom are you protecting, Guildmaster?” Valandur asked and both Ingwë and Lirilissë startled at the unexpectedness of the question. Ingwë turned to give Valandur a frown, but Valandur ignored him, his eyes fixed on Lirilissë. The guildmaster’s lips thinned and she gave him a steely look.

“You speak out of turn, Loremaster,” she said, “and I protect no one.”

“A lie, of course,” Valandur retorted without raising his voice. “You were against His Majesty employing the minstrels from the very first. Why? Do you object to their mission? That can’t be, though, because even bards like my atar are charged by the Guild to gather information. The bards are the keepers of our histories; they have to be aware of what is happening around them. The minstrels are the same, but they are usually in a position to gather intelligence of a different nature, no less important to the health and safety of the kingdom and of Eldamar as a whole. So why this reluctance? And it isn’t even really that, is it? It’s a determination to thwart His Majesty at all cost. So, I ask you, Guildmaster, whom are you protecting? Why did you really create the rank of Minstrel within the Guild and then treat them with such contempt as you do?”

All this time, Ingwë stood, his eyes narrowed as he listened to Valandur, and the initial anger was replaced with curiosity. He retook his throne, giving Lirilissë a searching look, while the elleth stood there looking pale, her eyes bright with anger, her hands clenched by her sides.

“Is he correct?” Ingwë asked softly. “Are you protecting someone, someone you do not wish to be brought to Our attention?”

For a moment Valandur wondered if the elleth would answer, but finally she nodded, closing her eyes and looking suddenly weary. “Yes. My sister. My twin sister, Lirimíriel. We were prentices together, did everything together, really, but she was unable to complete the exams to become a bard and was asked to leave the guild. It was the first time we were ever really separated. Miri was devastated. Becoming a bard was more her dream than mine. I joined the guild for her sake, not because I had any real desire to become a bard, yet, I was the one with all the talent. Miri could sing and play well enough, better than most, but it wasn’t enough, she wasn’t good enough.” Her tone turned bitter and her eyes flashed with anger.

“What happened to her?” Ingwë asked. “What did your sister do?”

“She left the guild. She had no choice in that. I was willing to leave with her but she convinced me to remain. I vowed then that if it were ever in my power to do so I would find a way that she could join the guild, she and others who failed. In the meantime, she found employment as a teacher to children of farmers.” Lirilissë snorted in contempt. “She claims to be happy enough living outside the city and teaching, but I know deep down inside she still weeps for the loss of her dream.”

“And when you became guildmaster, you conceived of the idea of forming a new rank within the guild, the rank of Minstrel,” Ingwë said.

“Yes,” Lirilissë replied, straightening. “Over the years, I saw others forced to leave the guild, their dreams dashed. When I became guildmaster, I created the rank of Minstrel. Miri was the first I asked to return.” She shook her head. “Would you believe she refused, said she was no longer interested in joining the guild.”

“Ah… then you are not protecting her, you’re punishing her,” Ingwë said.

“Originally, the rank of Minstrel was to be a step toward bardship. Senior journeymen, who were nearly ready to take the exams that would lead to bardship, would take the preliminary exams and be awarded the rank of Minstrel. They would essentially be junior bards. They would remain minstrels for a term of years while they studied for the more advanced exams. If they failed those, they would be granted the right to retake the exams if they wished, something that was not allowed before, but in the meantime they could honorably retain the rank of Minstrel or, if they wished, they could leave the guild.”

“But that is not what happened,” Valandur interjected. “You made the rank of Minstrel into a badge of shame. Those who failed to become bards were allowed to remain in the guild on sufferance, accepting the rank of Minstrel, knowing that they could have no further future within the guild, knowing that everyone looked down upon them as the failures that they were. Your sister refusing to return to the guild was a slap in the face and so you decided to punish her by punishing others, innocents who were forced to accept their second-class status as the only means of remaining in the guild.”

“She might have had a chance of passing the exams, of becoming a bard,” Lirilissë exclaimed. “I was giving her a second chance, something she had not been given before, and she turned it down, said it was no longer important to her. I created that rank for her and she just walked away from the one chance she had of perhaps becoming a master bard. When she dismissed my offer, I decided that the rank of Minstrel would be offered to those who failed the exams but still wished to be part of the guild. It was a terminal position. There would be no advancement, no hope of advancement and they knew it, everyone knew it.”

“And your sister never joined,” Ingwë said.

“Actually, she did,” Lirilissë countered, giving them a satisfied smirk, “later, when I decreed that anyone wishing to teach music and dance to children, not as a journeyman but professionally, had to have at least the rank of Minstrel. She had no choice but to join.” She paused and there was a sadness about her, a sense of defeat. “We have not spoken to one another since.”

Ingwë looked at Valandur who shook his head, then turned his attention to the elleth standing before them. “I am sorry,” Ingwë said gently and for a brief moment he ceased to be the High King and was simply an ellon sympathizing with another in pain. That moment did not last and when next he spoke, he was more formal. “We are displeased by your revelation, Guildmaster, and We feel that you have abused your position. The minstrels whom We have recruited are worthy of respect in their own right and should not be punished for something that is not their fault. We will have one of Our stewards take a closer look at the Bards’ Guild and make recommendations.”

“Will you insist that I resign as Guildmaster, then?” Lirilissë asked stiffly.

“No. We will not go that far. That is something the other bards can decide for themselves. We think that your original idea for the rank of Minstrel is sound and we may insist that it be implemented and anyone who is now a minstrel will have the opportunity to retake the exams if they so desire. However, this is something that need not be done immediately. As We said, one of Our stewards will be in touch. In the meantime, We would appreciate it if you would send us the names of all who have the rank of Minstrel and where they can be found, including your sister.”

Lirilissë looked about to object but something in Ingwë’s expression stopped her and she simply nodded. “I will have the list sent to you by Second Mingling.”

“The list is to go to Loremaster Valandur,” Ingwë ordered. “He is in charge of organizing the minstrels. You may send it to him at the Academy.”

Lirilissë gave Valandur a look of pure loathing to which Valandur simply smiled, as if he had not noticed, refusing to react to her otherwise. “Just out of curiosity, Guildmaster, why did you send Sairon and only him to me?”

“Yes, that puzzles Us as well,” Ingwë said.

Lirilissë shrugged, evincing indifference. “He happened to be the first minstrel I saw that day. He had come to the guildhall to discuss something with one of the masters and by custom he came to my study to pay his respects. I had just received your missive and decided he would be my answer.”

Valandur pursed his lips in disapproval but did not speak, recognizing that it was not his place to do so at this time. He saw that Ingwë also looked upon the elleth with disapproval, but he only said, “Have the list to Loremaster Valandur by Second Mingling, Lirilissë. Do not disappoint Us. You have Our leave to depart.”

It was a curt dismissal with none of the genteel proprieties associated with farewelling attached. Lirilissë gave Ingwë a stiff curtsey and, without another word, turned and exited the chamber, the guards opening and closing the door behind her. For a long moment silence ensued. Valandur did not dare speak or move before Ingwë did either and the High King sat immobile on his throne, deep in thought. Finally, he looked up, giving Valandur a sour grin.

“Thank you,” he said.

Valandur blinked. “For what, Sire?”

“For saving me from letting my anger get the better of me. That was a very astute observation on your part. I fear I was allowing Lirilissë’s disrespect to get to me. You saw more clearly than I what she was about.”

Valandur shrugged. “She effectively dismissed me from her calculations. That gave me the opportunity to observe her without in turn being observed or perhaps measured might be a better word. At any rate, we now understand a little better her motivations and the whys and wherefores of the minstrels. I would be very interested in meeting this twin of hers.”

“And you shall,” Ingwë said, rising and gesturing for the page to approach, removing the coronet and replacing it with the fillet. He graciously dismissed the page and the chamberlain and headed for the door with Valandur beside him. “She is the first of the minstrels I want you to meet. Find out from her if what Lirilissë told us is the truth.”

“You doubt her?” Valandur asked as they made their way through the palace.

“I do not trust her to have told us the entire truth, just enough of it that she cannot be accused of lying to me. I want to know Lirimíriel’s side of the story.”

“It will be as you say, Sire,” Valandur said formally.

Ingwë flashed him a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “Indil was most disappointed that I had to cancel her lesson with you. I promised her that she could have her lesson with you tomorrow if that does not interfere with your own plans.”

“I have a meeting with two of my students set for the second hour after First Mingling, but I will be free by the fourth hour.”

“Hmm… that will be acceptable and afterwards you can plan to stay for a meal. It will just be the family.”

“I am honored, Sire, and I will be there.” Then he gave Ingwë a sly look. “By the way, how did you like your daughter’s poem?”

Ingwë stopped and blushed, much to Valandur’s amusement. “She has a very vivid imagination. Elindis actually laughed and said she wished it had been that easy convincing me to marry her.”

“Indeed?” was Valandur’s only reply and then for some reason they both found themselves laughing. Ingwë began quoting certain passages from the poem that set them laughing even more and it was some time before they got themselves under control enough to continue on their way, Ingwë to see to other kingdom business and Valandur back to the Academy.